My Treasure
A treasure not sought after much
By elderly or youth;
A beauty not admired as such
By primitive or couth.
The satisfaction she provides
Is not for sale in stores;
No advertisements or bromides
No international tours.
The cynics and the skeptics doubt
What good she has to give;
For me she is what good’s about
And my whole reason to live.
Enjoying her the way I do
You’d think I wouldn’t share;
The truth is, if the world did too
There’d still be much to spare.
Each evening I do creep away
Enwrapped in cloak of night
And cast aside the workaday
For wisdom's sweet delight.
